Vigilance & Control
by HunnybadgerV
Summary: Sebastian finds Hawke at the wrong place and the wrong time for a conversation, which results in only increasing her struggle around her companion caught in a crisis of faith.


Vigilance & Control

Siobhán was walking nonchalantly along the edge of the square near the chantry, seemingly aimlessly. Her purpose was unclear to the few who noticed her. She'd been watching the fool for nearly two hours she needed to find out where he was hiding the boy before the templars did. But he didn't trust anyone with the whereabouts of his son. Carefully she meandered behind him, trying to keep an eye on him without giving away the fact that she was following him. So far it was working out fine.

"Hawke," the familiar lilt called from the bottom of the steps she'd just climbed. She looked back and gave a quick wave of her hand which was by her side. Sebastian ignored her and bounded up the stairs and moved toward her in something more than a walk and less than a run. "Hawke, I really need to talk to you." She didn't look at him, but stepped closer to the wall forcing him to move to her other side.

As she berated him in her head, he followed her. The entire time her eyes locked on Ser Jalen who was talking animatedly with his wife who'd apparently come out to deliver some news. "Oh, Maker's sake," she said quietly.

"What?" Sebastian replied stopping and looking down at her.

"Just a minute." She said quickly, looking around rather frantically. She grabbed his arm and dragged him around a corner into a thin alley way. She pushed him into an alcove in the wall then stood in front of him.

"Hawke? I don't think." At least he was whispering, she thought.

She said nothing. But laid her hand softly over his mouth as she leaned into him straining to hear the words being exchanged not more ten feet from them now. Sebastian complied. He soon found himself entranced by the smell of what he could only describe as a mixture of honeysuckle and rain. He closed his eyes and took a long slow breath savoring the sweetness. It was then he realized that at some point in the jostling he'd placed his hands on her waist. The feel of her against him did more to rattle his brain than the scent of her. As she inched closer, he let his hand slide from her side to her back.

For the first time, she looked up at him the question clear in her eyes. So often, he'd pulled away from her. It'd been months since she even just flirted playfully with him just to make him blush. There was a flash of what he had hoped to avoid, or at least not see, before she quickly pulled away and walked farther into the alley. She walked with her hands on her hips, then turned back toward him as he hadn't yet thought to extract himself from the tight space they'd recently shared.

When she paced back toward him a third time, then stopped abruptly turning. She lifted up her hand palm toward him then pointed sharply, when her eyes met his they were completely clear, or perhaps devoid was a better way to describe them he realized as she spoke very calmly. "What did you need me for?"

"Did you hear nothing I said?"

"Besides you calling out my name when I was trying not to be seen. No. And for my distraction, I apologize. But I'm trying to find a boy before he's arrested and branded. I'm hoping that if I can get him back to Ser Thrask they might not sever his mind."

"I didn't realize," he said solemnly a direct reaction to the bite and worry in her tone. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

"No," she replied much less sharply. "Thankfully, I heard what I needed to hear. Its fine. And I am sorry that I ignored you. Its not a fair way to treat a friend." She looked at the alley around her and at the cobblestones beyond bathed in the sunlight. "Come by tonight if you need to talk. I may not be back before midnight, but Bodahn will take care of you and Aethon could use the company-he's been training recruits and I think rather misses just being a dog from time to time. Just try to keep him off the furniture if you do swing by."

With that she started down the alley toward him, he let his hand fall and caught hers for a moment. The loose touch of their hands broke the steady rhythm of her stride and when he turned to look out on the streets of Hightown he saw her looking back at him with that same question painting her features.

"Maker, what am I doing?" he asked himself as he turned away from her.

Thrask had been able to deliver the boy safely to the hands of the First Enchanter, though she knew that just because he'd made it back to the Circle without incident that there was no guarantee that he might not be paid some type of retribution. The only thing that might stay the hand of the Knight-Commander or some of her more extreme Templars was the fact that his father was a man of title and wealth in the city. Even within the Circle, money and connection could still hold some sway, but sadly most mages were lacking such types of political influences.

That was one of many nights when she was glad she couldn't see the major landmark of her adopted hometown. The Gallows was a sight she'd had more than enough of in her first three years in the city, when most of her time was spent trying not to get noticed by the Templars. Her own position as a free and public apostate was due only to the influence that she had purchased in Kirkwall. In her own mind, that influence had much too high a price attached to it. As she pushed open the door to the home where her mother had grown up she was greeted by a most welcome sound-silence. Her mabari, Aethon, looked up from his rug before the fire and watched her cross the room before closing his eyes again.

She slipped into her study and shut the door. The room was exceptionally dark, the fire had all but died out. She tended it and after a few minutes it was bright enough to allow her a little time to read in an effort to calm her mind. Siobhán fell into her favorite chair and immediately found herself struggling back to her feet.

"By the Fade," she said loudly as she spun and regained her feet as well as her composure. She quickly grabbed her robes and started refastening the buttons she'd undone as she'd reentered the room with her messages. "Didn't realize you were here."

"I must have fallen asleep," he said quietly. The blush on his cheeks flamed, even this far from the dim firelight it was plain as day. It always made her laugh to think she could so easily undo one of the deadliest shots she'd ever known.

"No, its my fault. I knew you might be here. I should have looked before I leapt, so to speak," she muttered the last bit as she rechecked to make sure she didn't miss any buttons. Even though part of her loved watching him squirm in response to her flirtations and advances, of late his pulling away from her was becoming more painful than amusing, so for both their sakes she was trying to maintain some manner of polite decorum when she was with him.

"This has been an interesting day," he replied with a strained laugh.

"True, and I apologize for manhandling you in the street today."

He waved it off. "No need. I'd have done the same thing if our roles were reversed."

"Truly?" she said tilting her head up slightly revealing a smirk that she couldn't contain. The blush refreshed and she shook her head and walked toward the fireplace, turning away from him. "What did you need to speak to me about?"

"I just find myself struggling and sometimes talking to you helps unmuddy the waters. I can't say things were always clear for me, but at least I could usually see the general picture. Right now, its like I'm trapped in a room full of smoke and there's nothing to suggest which direction is the way out."

She kicked an escaped coal back into the fireplace before it reached the rug. She thought for a moment before turning and leaning her shoulder against the mantle with her arms crossed over her chest. "Perhaps its unclear only because the time has not come to make that choice. The head of the plot has been put down, but sometimes the lizard can go on for a few minutes without its head before it dies. You may yet have time to decide how you will respond."

Siobhán started pacing the length of the mantle as she continued, "Which could also fix some of your issues with the Grand Cleric. Regardless of your choice-prince or priest-taking your time and waiting for the way to be revealed could also help you become more certain about what is right for you." Her movement halted, though she was not facing him.

He had been watching her intently, the way one hand moved as she spoke; the other arm had stayed tightly clasped to her chest as each step was carefully measured, her eyes surveying the floor in front of her. "Look at me," he said softly. The request caught her off guard he could tell by the look, but she complied for a moment out of surprise. It was there again, the trace of something, a question maybe. "Why do you always turn away when I see that?"

"Sebastian," she said facing the bookcase she had turned back toward. Her fingertips ran along the edge of the shelf. "You don't want to do this," she added staring at the leather bound tomes that had become so familiar to her.

His sudden proximity surprised her, she hadn't heard him move across the room. His hand was next to hers, his body close enough that she could smell the spice of the incense on his clothes. She started to move away, but he slid his free arm around her waist. She exhaled and let herself lean back into him, let the back of her head rest against his chest.

Siobhán had been playing this game for nearly two years-and, frankly, it was exhausting her. Their flirtation had been playful, silly, and hopeless in her eyes. She simply chided him because she new he was safe, thought he was safe. Though she had planned on trying to get back the Amell estate, she hadn't counted on the influence that would accompany her money or her deeds. Siobhán Hawke was no longer simply some Ferelden refugee, nor was she merely an apostate; she was a force to be reckoned with and held a power that she had not even fully realized yet. What neither of them had counted on was the way simple flirtation might flourish and instill a foothold on one's heart. She knew he couldn't be hers, regardless of his choice. But it was the one thing she desired most.

His other arm joined the first, encircling her waist as she wrapped her hands over his, holing him there. Siobhán turned her head and rested it on his upper arm. "This isn't even real is it?" she said softly. And with the revelation she had forced herself to wake, finding herself in her favorite chair. Before she thought better of it, Hawke drew the dagger from her waist and flung it at the statue above the fireplace all in one smooth dangerous motion. "I've got to be more vigilant," she scolded herself softly.

"About?" the deep voice grated her nerves only because she was feeling weak.

"Creepy statues," she replied curtly to the tattooed elf leaning on the doorjamb as the rising sunlight reached across the floor toward him.

"Mmhmm," he replied as she walked past him.

"Not today Fenris." The look cautioned him. "Give me ten minutes."


End file.
